


The gift of art

by Marium



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Athelstan draws things and Ragnar is interested in it, Athelstan's journal, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, various scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marium/pseuds/Marium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragnar brings a gift for Athelstan from England, and through the years Athelstan uses it to express his changing feelings about the world that surrounds him and the man who changed his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The gift of art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheProfoundBlade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProfoundBlade/gifts).



> I did this a month ago for TheProfoundBlade's birthday, I'm posting it here now.  
> Hope you enjoy, and I'm always happy to read opinions! :)

“I have a gift for you.”

Athelstan looked up at Ragnar. The earl had been there, standing next to him, for a few minutes now. Athelstan had stood up when he came in, but Ragnar had told him to sit down again and, after some moments in which neither said anything, Athelstan went back to his duty of separating the gold from the silver that had come from the last raid as if he was alone.

Ragnar was smiling widely, the same smile that had been on his face for the last minutes, and it widened when Athelstan looked up at him with surprise and curiosity on his face. With deliberate slowness, he put his hand inside a small bag at his side and put a wooden box in front of Athelstan, setting the precious metals aside.

“I found this when we were raiding. I thought you would like it.”

What sat inside the box was a book. The leather of the cover looked new, and when Athelstan opened it to find blank pages, the smell of fresh parchment mixed with that of the sea momentarily brough him back to a year ago, when his life was covered with that smell. Next to it, there were a few charcoals and a paint brush.

“This is what you talked about, right? You said you missed it.”

Athelstan nodded, shocked, without looking away from the book. It was true he had often talked to the other man about how much he missed painting and drawing. Ragnar had asked him about it many times, too, eager to know details of Athelstan's former life. At first the younger man had thought that once Ragnar had coaxed enough information about England from him, the questions would stop, but Ragnar's never-ending curiosity had shown him that the interest was genuine.

“It is” Athelstan confirmed after licking his suddenly dry lips. He hesitated for a second and looked back at Ragnar, trying to smile. “I appreciate it, Ragnar, but I'm not sure if I should accept it.”

Ragnar's smile faltered a little and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why shouldn't you?”

“This was in a monastery, I suppose.” When Ragnar nodded, Athelsan sighed sadly. “Then I certainly can't accept it. It belonged to a monk, in a monastery, and it was meant to write the word of God. I can't accept something like that when a monk's blood has been shed to bring it here.”

Ragnar's smile had completely disappeared now, and his frown had deepened, showing disappointment and confusion.

“You miss this, and you have it here now. What does it matter how it got here?”

“It matters, Ragnar, a lot” Athelstan replied calmly. “I repeat that I appreciate deeply that you've brought this here, but I can't accept it. It would be against God's teachings.”

Ragnar crossed his arms and shrugged, a gesture meant to hide just how disappointed he was that not only his gift hadn't been accepted with the enthusiasm he had expected, but hadn't been accepted at all.

“I don't understand why you keep obeying a God that forbids you to enjoy the things you want. But I can't force you to accept it, so do what you will with it.”

He left the room after that. Athelstan sighed, sad that he had had to reject the gift. He went back to the gold and silver, but after only half a minute, he left it aside and reached for the box.

He opened the book and stared at the empty page for almost a minute. The brush was useless without paint, so he grabbed a charcoal and inspected how it left a black line over the white of the page. He closed the box again, but instead of pushing it aside, he kept it next to him as he resumed his task.

-0-o-0-o-0-

“I see you changed your mind, priest” said Ragnar's voice from behind Athelstan. There was a pause and then he added, the joy clear in his voice, “I'm glad.”

Athelstan turned around, startled, to face Ragnar. The earl had made no noise when approaching him. He was met with that same grin from two days ago, or even wider, more satisfied.

Athelstan was done with all his chores for the day, and was now sitting on a corner of the main hall, with the book he had been gifted with open on the table in front of him and a charcoal on his hand.

Athelstan nodded silently and looked down, a bit apprehensive, as a light blush colored his cheeks and brought heat to them.

“It was already here. It is true I wish it hadn't been taken from the monastery it belonged to, but I suppose that there is nothing to be done about it now. Rejecting it won't change what has happened and won't do any good to anyone.”

“I knew you would use your brain sooner or later” Ragnar replied, beaming, as he sat next to Athelstan.

He leaned towards him, dangerously close, his head almost resting on the hollow of Athelstan's neck and his breathing warm and heavy against his skin as his eyes inspected the page.

“You're drawing my wife” he pointed out after a little while.

The red and warmth on Athelstan's face got more intense as he nodded shyly.

“She's beautiful, isn't she?” the other asked, smirking mischevously at him and narrowing his eyes sightly.

“She is. I think Lagertha is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

“And you've drawn her because you desire her, right?”

The blush got even more intense as Athelstan nervously squirmed a few inches away from Ragnar. Even if he was grinning, even if they had offered him to share their bed, Athelstan still had a hard time believing that Ragnar wouldn't mind another man lusting after his wife.

“That's not the reason” he rushed to say. “She is beautiful and that's why I'm drawing her. But look, I did the same with you.”

As he spoke, he turned the page and showed Ragnar the second page of the book, where there was the image of the earl. In the first page there were a few sketches with which Athelstan had practiced to get Ragnar's face to the best of his ability.

Ragnar's eyes shone as he leaned again and eliminated the distance that had appeared between them. This time he did rest his head against Athelstan, and the grin he shot him when he talked was a mix of amused and delighted.

“So you desire me, too. And since you did this first, does it mean you want me even more than her?” Ignoring the man's obvious embarrassment, he continued as his hand settled on the other side of Athelstan's neck, pressing him an inch closer. “Tell me, Athelstan, now that you have accepted your desires, would you accept to join us? The offer still stands and it would please us both greatly. Or maybe, if you're too shy, would you rather share a bed with just me before that? I promise I won't bite. Not too much at least.”

Atheltan's breathing was heavy and he felt the drops of sweat fall down his face as he stared back into Ragnar's intense gaze. That first night, when the offer was made, he hadn't been able to deny to himself that he had felt desire take hold of him at the sight of those two demons, but he had also been appalled at himself for his weakness and hand clung to that to not fall into temptation.

Now he felt that same temptation rush through his body, and he realized that instead of appalled like he once was, this time the offer made him flustered. The thought of laying with Ragnar and having his whole attention on him made him feel warm, almost as if he was sick.

“You- you're assuming too much” he stuttered, once again jerking away from Ragnar and cursing his cheeks for betraying him. “These drawings have nothing to do with attraction.”

“Maybe” Ragnar conceded. “But that doesn't mean you're not attracted to me. You'll have to become a far better liar if you want me to believe you aren't.”

Athelstan sank further down into his seat and started muttering unintelligible things, excuses Ragnar guessed. The bigger man laughed.

“Relax, priest” Ragnar said as he moved away, raising his hands. He tilted his head to the side, still smirking and apparently not bothered by Athelstan's denial.

“If you don't want to admit it, then I guess I'll just have to wait for a little longer, hm? But you know, it's not something you should be ashamed of.”

After saying that, he stood up. He leaned and Athelstan nearly squealed with embarrassment when the other man placed a kiss on his forehead. Then Ragnar winked at him and went away, walking towards his wife.

Athelstan's blush remained on his cheeks for a good while. It was still there when he took his book again and continued drawing Lagertha.

-0-o-0-o-0-

“Tell me more.”

“Are you that interested in our stories, priest?”

Athelstan nodded eagerly as he leaned forward, not even bothered by the hint of mockery in Ragnar's voice.

It was late at night, and there was no one in the hall but the two of them, everyone else having left long ago. The light of the last dying fire made dim lights dance on their faces and bodies. Athelstan was sitting on a bench, resting his elbows on the table as he leaned as much as he could towards Ragnar, who was in a similar position on the opposite side.

The earl stood up for a moment to feed the fire before coming back.

“Maybe you should ask Floki about these things. He knows more than I do.”

“I'd rather you tell me.”

That comment made Ragnar's expression turn softer for a second. He stretched his arm out and his fingers brushed Athelstan's.

Usually Ragnar was the one the questions came from. He would set Athelstan aside and sit with him, and proceed to ask about England, about its kingdoms and religion, its politics and customs. Sometimes he asked about new things, other times he wanted to hear again about something he already knew, and others he wanted Athelstan to compare their two cultures, curious about what the English man thought was better or worse.

But there were times, like this one, where the tables turned. During the time he had had the other man at his side, Ragnar had learnt that he was as deeply curious as he was. There was little point to asking how the northmen's lifestyle was, since Athelstan had found himself as a part of it. Instead, the never-ending questions that came from Athelstan were about their traditions, their views, and their beliefs. And sometimes, what interested him was Ragnar himself.

Ragnar saw the fascination shine on Athelstan's eyes. The apprehension he had once had about anyhing foreign to his own world was long gone.

Ragnar's touch lingered for another moment before he retreated his hand and answered.

“I saw him once. Odin. I was in battle and he appeared before me, walking among the dead. As soon as he was there, he was gone. When I saw him I knew he favored me, and that was what made me decide to finally go west to England.”

“How did you know it was him?” Athelstan asked, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was afraid that talking too loud would somehow break the magic of the moment.

“I just knew it. But if you mean what he looked like, it was because of the ravens.”

“Because Odin has two ravens, Huginn and Muninn, who fly around the world and then come back to him to tell him what they have seen.”

Ragnar nodded, satisfied. He couldn't help noticing that when Athelstan spoke about the gods, he didn't speak as if they were a tale, a simple story, anymore. Now, each time they talked about them, Athelstan spoke more and more as if he believed those tales were true.

The next day, Ragnar found Athelstan's book open in a corner of his family's rooms, left behind when Athelstan had gone to fulfill his duties.

There was a figure that had yet to be finished on the page. Ragnar saw the missing eye and the two ravens, one on each shoulder.

It was Odin, just like Ragnar had told Athelstan he was like.

-0-o-0-o-0-

Ragnar wandered into the room, and a moment later Athelstan walked in behind him, closing the door softly behind them.

He inspected the room. It was full of parchment, and the smell of it and ink was heavy in the air. The sunlight lighted up parts of the room, making a contrast with the shadowed ones, and a light breeze came in through the window, gently rocking the parchments.

“So this is where you work now” he commented, his voice controlled, not turning around to face him.

“It is.”

“And what is it that you do? Have you gone back to your old duties? Do you write your god's word again?”

“That is a part of what I do” was the quiet, almost hesitant answer.

Then Ragnar turned around and his eyes fixed on Athelstan's face. He closed the distance between them until there was less than a feet separating the two men. Athelstan held his gaze.

“Is that what king Ecbert offers you? A chance to reconcile with your god? To, how is it you say, save your soul?”

For a second, Athelstan's eyes almost fell down, but they remained where they were.

“It's a part of it. But only a little part.”

“Then what is it, Athelstan?” Ragnar inquired. The little distance remaining between them disappeared and their chests touched. “You seem like you're a bit indecisive, like if you're not completely sure you should leave this place. What does Ecbert offer you to have your loyalty?”

“I owe him my life, Ragnar.”

That response made Ragnar's eyebrows move up a little and a surprised expression took hold of his face for a second, before concern took its place.

“How so?”

“I was not welcome here when I was captured, Ragnar. Not only was I an enemy, but an enemy that had once lived here. I am a traitor in their eyes. I was to be executed by cruxifixion, like Christ was. It is a slow, painful death, and I would have suffered it if lord Ecbert hadn't stepped in. He saved my life and gave me a place here, in his villa.”

Ragnar listened attentively to Athelstan's words. His face showed concern, worry, anger, and sorrow. When Athelstan was done talking, he turned around and started walking, his fingers brushing the parchment on his way.

“He saved you. I suppose I can appreciate that. And I understand why you deem him worthy of your loyalty.”

He kept walking until he found himself in front of Athelstan's desk. His eyes stared at what was in the center of it: The book he had gifted Athelstan with all those years ago.

“You still have this.”

“Of course I do. I never part with it so I had it when I was captured, and I managed to recover it. It is my most valued possession.”

Ragnar opened the book and went through the pages, remembering all those portraits Athelstan had done. On the last few pages, which he was sure had been done in the last year, he found the farm Ragnar and his family had lived in on a time that now seemed like it was little more than a distant dream. There was also a drawing of Gyda, big and full of details, and another one of the Bjorn that had left him to go with his mother. There were also Ragnar's other children, the ones Athelstan knew, Ubbe and Hvitserk.

He found another portrait of Bjorn, accompanied by a quickly done one of the adult Bjorn Athelstan had met so little ago. And between all of those, the person who appeared most was Ragnar.

Ragnar's hand dropped and he turned to face Athelstan.

“You may be loyal to them, but you haven't forgotten us. You miss the life you had with me.”

“They are my people” Athelstan answered as he nodded, “but so are you, and having been born here doesn't diminish that fact. Actually, your people became mine by choice, and I think that matters more than anything else. More than even birth.”

Ragnar smiled at him, soft and warm. He came back next to the other and placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“As soon as the negotiations with Ecbert are over we will leave. I ask you again: Will you come home with me?”

“I have thought about it, and it is clear to me that I belong there, at your side. Of course I will.”

-0-o-0-o-0-

Ragnar enjoyed watching Athelstan work.

He would sit near Athelstan, or lie in his bed with his head facing the other man, while the other looked at the paper and his hand moved quickly over it. Sometimes they would talk, about what Athelstan drew or about anything else that crossed their minds, about politics or personal matters that held little weight beyond that room. Other times they would stay silent, Ragnar content with watching the expression that appeared on the other's face, deeply focused on his craft.

He usually asked to be allowed to see the contents of the book, the second one he had brought from England for him after the first finally ran out of space. The first times Athelstan was embarrassed and said it was something personal, nothing worth seeing anyway, and refused to show. Ragnar's brightly blue, requesting eyes would remain fixed on him, his chin resting on Athelstan's shoulder and his lips leaving small kisses on his neck, until Athelstan gave in and gave him the book. Now, however, Athelstan didn't care; sometimes it seemed like he didn't even notice when Ragnar picked the book up after he was done with it, and other times he was the one to approach the king to show him his work.

He had drawn the whole of Ragnar's family, Gyda included, quite a few times already. There were images of friends and of the nature surrounding Kattegat, the mountains and the fiords. Sometimes Lindisfarne appeared in the pages. And most of all, Ragnar, only his face or all his body, back when he was a farmer or as the king he now was, peaceful or fighting, clothed or naked.

There were two sketches he had never finished: Ecbert and Judith.

“Why didn't you finish those?” Ragnar had asked once as he went through the book.

It had taken a moment for Athelstan to answer. His face had gone blank for a short moment, after which he shrugged.

“It has been a long time since the last time I saw them” he had answered, evasive. “I don't think I could get their faces right, so I thought it'd be best to not continue with them.”

Ragnar had hummed and nodded, and decided not to comment on how clear Athelstan's lie was. The pass of time hadn't stopped him from drawing Gyda's face with such detail that it almost brought tears to Ragnar's face, or the monastery at Lindisfarne. If Ecbert and Judith were unfinished, it was because Athelstan wanted them to remain so. His reasons for that, Ragnar wasn't sure about, but if he didn't want to answer, then he wouldn't press.

Athelstan was drawing now, under Ragnar's attentive gaze. He was sitting on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, while Ragnar lied on his side next to him, his hand gently caressing the other's leg. The king stretched his neck, attempting to catch a glimpse of what was going on on the paper, but Athelstan gently pushed him away.

“Not yet” he said once again, the amusement clear in his voice. Ragnar pouted a little but retreated, and smiled when that coaxed a laugh out of Athelstan.

Ragnar was eager, could hardly wait, because Athelstan was drawing Paris. Maybe sandcastles were better to give Ragnar an idea of how the city's defenses were, but Athelstan had said that didn't work to show his king the city's soul. He wanted to give him a little taste before they actually got there.

Finally he set the charcoal aside and, with deliberate slowness, turned the drawing towards Ragnar. He leaned in, his face only a few inches away from the paper as his eyes ran through the tall walls, the gates, the buildings and the towers.

“It's impressive.”

“It is. And if you're impressed with this, then I can't imagine what you'll think of it when you actually see it.”

Ragnar smiled and got up on his elbows to press his lips against Athelstan's.

“We will figure it out when the time comes. I can't wait.”

-0-o-0-o-0-

“Athelstan, why don't you ever draw yourself?”

They were back home after the sack of Paris. It had been hard, and there had been many deceased, but the treasure they had gotten was more than worth it. But the gold and silver wasn't what had mattered to Ragnar, not the most. What had really had fire running through his veins was having seen with his own eyes the city Athelstan had told him so much about, and seeing for himself that, just like Athelstan himself had said, the other's words fell short to describe Paris. And as he contemplated it, he had had Athelstan right by his side.

As fascinated as he was by the city, the time to go back home and rest had come. After only a couple days of resting, Athelstan had started drawing the city anew, saying he wanted to do it while its image was still fresh on his memory.

Ragnar was, as usual, lying at his side. He had asked the question when the other was telling him about everything his hand was itching to put into the pages, all the things and people he wanted to remember.

When he heard the question, Athelstan's hand stopped and he blinked, momentarily unsure what to answer.

“It has just never occurred to me, I suppose. What I draw are things that are important to me, like you and your family.”

“ _Our_ family, Athelstan. And who says you are not important?” Ragnar asked as he moved to sit on the bed, his legs crossed beneath him and a scowl on his face. “You are very important.”

“But I'm not important to myself in the way everything else on this book is. It is different.”

“Well, then I say I care more than enough for the two of us, so that is no excuse. Besides” he added as his hand went up to caress Athelstan's cheek, “ you are beautiful. You should be there too, at least once.”

A slight blush appeared on the other's cheeks, but he didn't look away and a smile settled on his lips.

“It isn't easy to draw oneself. I would have to constantly look at my reflection to do so, and I would probably have a hard time focusing.”

“Then I'll draw you” Ragnar declared excitedly. He animatedly reached for the book and the charcoal, but his movements stopped and he frowned when he saw the expression on Athelstan's face. “What is so funny? It can't be that hard.”

Athelstan was grinning, amused, but he changed his expression to a more serious one, like he had believed Ragnar's claim to be able to do it, and gestured to the book.

“Oh, go ahead.”

Not even ten minutes later, Ragnar was scowling in frustration and set the instruments aside. He made no comment on the amused expression on Athelstan's face and eyes.

“Well, maybe I can't. But I can tell you what you are like so you can draw yourself, what do you think about that?”

Athelstan nodded and picked up the things Ragnar had left.

Ragnar started talking. He started with Athelstan's dark and long hair, which was wavy and soft-looking when it was free. As he spoke, his hands caressed said hair, his fingers combing through it. He did the same when he spoke about his short beard, and in addition left a kiss on his jaw. He kept touching and leaving soft kisses as he spoke of his chin, his cheeks, his nose and his eyes. Finally, his hands were framing Athelstan's face as his thumbs gently caressed the man's lips.

“And your lips are... How is it you say? Sinful, tempting. I can't help myself when I look at them.”

He leaned forward and closed his eyes as his lips brushed Athelstan's, and then closed the distance. His hands moved from his cheeks to his neck, drawing him closer, and Athelstan's hands grasped Ragnar's shoulders. Ragnar licked slowly inside Athelstan's mouth and gently caught his lower lip between his before moving away.

Athelstan was visibly flustered, and looked down as he playfully pushed Ragnar away and picked the things he had dropped.

“Make up your mind. Either you want me to draw myself or you want me to be unable to think about anything but you.”

“Draw yourself, and then think of nothing but me. Don't forget the hickey I left on your neck, by the way.”

Athelstan grinned and started working, and Ragnar watched carefully as he did so, repeating what he had said before to guide Athelstan's hand.

“I wouldn't have dared doing this when I was in Lindisfarne,” Athelstan commented as he worked on his own nose. “To use my skill to depict myself... What a prideful act. I don't think any of my brothers would have approved of any of the drawings I have made since you gifted me with that book, even though I had desired to draw similar things even before I met you. Here, with you, my art is free.”

Ragnar hummed and kissed Athelstan's neck. A while later, Athelstan nodded, satisfied, and turned the book to give Ragnar a better view.

“What do you think?”

“Close enough” Ragnar replied with a nod. Then he pointed at the empty space next to the Athelstan on the page. “Now I want you to draw me here. At your side.”

 


End file.
